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Chapter Two: The Fun In Funeral
| director = | previous = | next = }} The Fun In Funeral is the second episode of the first season of . It premiered on June 30th, 2018. In the aftermath of , The Gaming Club each experience their own personal problems as the school mourns the death of their most popular student and as a new threat begins to literally haunt them. }} The Gaming Club, consisting of ringleader Beckham, smartass Nicholas, calculating Asher, and loyal Jonathan, conspire to prank the most popular bully in school. Faking a note, they lead him into town and eventually take him a cabin. But when he breaks free and runs off, the boys leave him behind. To his death. Dominic Kentbridge's picturesque funeral was right on the river's edge in an open field, the trees on the other side, glazed with pure white snow, added to the serene view of the white landscape. It could have been mistaken for heaven, but the coat-layered mourning mass in black disrupted the scene. Stray snowflakes delicately landed on the black crowd's designer clothes. Women, standing perfectly straight in their heels with their makeup applied flawlessly, had black sunglasses that supposedly covering eyes red from crying. The men similarly had no wrinkles on their tailored suits, their stoned expressions more appropriate for that of a bodyguard. The sermon was orchestrated by a high-level minister in a recently-built gazebo, with Dominic's picture projected in either sides in the form of a photoshopped portrait. The inhuman perfection of the entire service was amplified on the TV screen. Students across every dorm in the academy watched eyes-glued in the TV screen transmitted all the way from England. Dominic was relatively too low status for a member of the extended Royal Family for his funeral be showed on television, so instead the students were watching a live stream online from a camera his family must have put. But his death did cause small soundwaves across the world - the boys did see his name trending in the lower half of the top 20 on Twitter. "The absolute fakeness of this entire funeral is astounding," said Nicholas. He shook his head as he switched positions on the left couch, wanting to get more of the fireplace. The boys had gathered in the Gaming HQ to watch the funeral - mostly to criticize the event and its patrons. "Maybe they taped this and spent months editing it. I mean, surely Dominic's mom and dad have less wrinkles than they do now?" Asher stated. "Nope, it's live," said Jonathan absently. "They're statues, all of them. Cold and emotionless. Even the damn pastor has a monotone tone that makes me want to sleep. I bet half of them are actually sleeping standing straight," cackled Beckham. "It's a funeral, Beck. People show grief in different forms," said Jonathan gently. "Jonny, are you blind? Not one damn person is crying - not that there wasn't much to miss anyway. Look at his freaking mother!" Beckham pointed at the screen, where Dominic's mother had her head on her husband's shoulder. "She isn't leaning into him for support - she's out cold right on his shoulder! Even I can see the drool seeping from her mouth." "Beckham!" snickered Nicholas, even though Beckham was trying to be serious. "Even a movie couldn't pull a thing like this off," said Asher quietly. "You know, he kinda deserved a funeral like this - grand like his status, but cold like his soul." The boys took a few seconds to ponder Nicholas' deep thought, until Beckham broke the silence in the air. "So, how much do you three want bet he's giving Satan a blowjob for a chance to get to heaven?" "One hundred," said Asher quickly. "Five hundred, what the fuck," said Nick. All three looked at Jonathan, who was curled up on the side of the couch. Feeling three intense stares looking at him, he squeaked "Uh, two hundred?" "Well whatever you want to bet, I wonder what he has to do for God to get into heaven?" cackled Beckham. Chills raced through Nicholas' veins when he heard the familiar ringtone that pierced the air. He had tried to avoid the caller since the ... the unfortunate incident that happened before his final year began. The first weeks were out of respect, but the calls had grown more insistent and demanding. Sighing in dread, he grabbed his iPhone and touched the green button. "Nicky, baby!" Jeremy Harper's voice boomed, causing Nicholas to jerk his phone away from his ear to protect his eardrum. "Finally got ahold of you!" "Um, yeah, I've been focusing on, uh, school, you know," Nicholas mumbled. While Jeremy's voice did bring back happy memories of playing with Uncle Jeremy, it also brung back memories of his parents that caused his heart to ache against its beating. "Totally, totally, very understandable," Uncle Jeremy said. "School's important, but you know, as the official head of McKeller Studios, your parents' empire is more at stake than your education at this point," he finished softly. Nicholas' parents were two of the most prolific film producers in Hollywood. As successful as Steven Spielberg and Michael Bay, they owned McKeller Studios, a true rival of Warner Brothers and Disney that spawned blockbuster movies, television series and multibillion dollar franchises, turning ordinary people into international stars. They left their entire empire to Nicholas, their sole heir the moment their plane had crashed near the Rocky Mountains. "So ever since your, um, folks..." Uncle Jeremy couldn't finish the sentence, almost as if he had sensed the ball choked in Nicholas' throat. "Well, we've been trying to manage without them. We've begun production on the sequel to Intergalatic while Werewolves in Waverly is currently in the middle of filming - they're already way over budget. The Terrifying Adventures of Serena, Runner Runner Lover, and Max VS The Dark Forces were greenlit. Our new streaming service to compete with Netflix already has four TV shows in the works. And we're thinking of buying a stake in Summit Productions," he finished. "I knew it seems like a lot, but we've been handling it. Me and some of your friends' closest friends - do you remember Rachel and Olivia? - have been acting as the replacement heads with the board of directors handling the bigger decisions. But there's a lot of stuff that has to go with the big guy first. And that big guy ... is you." "But Uncle Jeremy, you know I have scho-" "Look, Nick, I know that. Education is important, obviously. But you're almost done with school. Under other circumstances, I would patiently wait for you to finish your last semester and then, honestly, talk you about college. But think, Nick, think! For such a genius you're being very dumb about this. No more quizzes, tests, snobby teachers, bitchy girls, jackass guys-" "It's more than that! Call me a brat, but what you're asking of me is too much! I don't want to run this company by myself - Mom and Dad knew I never even liked watching, let alone making film-" "Then you are a brat! Jesus, and you're supposed to be some Einstein. Nick, your parents would WANT you to do this! They made their empire from the ground up out of nothing but charm and hard work, and we both know they wouldn't have left it to their underage son if they didn't know he'll do well with it. You are your parents' legacy - you HAVE to do this. You can't escape your fate." "LISTEN TO ME! You're not listening! I'm not going to be pressured into doing something I don't want to, something I'm not interested or frankly prepared to do. Imagine an amateur 17-year-old running a multibillion dollar company!" "You are going to do it. I have to go, but dammit Nicholas I will head up to Canada myself and yank you out of your damn boarding school if I have to. Nick, there's so much at stake - we're going to lose and waste money without your input, actors and producers and the rest of their crew could lose their jobs, other companies could steal our staff and tear us to pieces. We need you as much as you need this - I know you're not stupid enough to let the one thing your parents loved as much as you rot away." Asher laid sprawled on the leather couch, his iPhone sitting idly beside him. His mother just called, offering a note of condolences to him about Dominic's death, her fifth or sixth husband muttering something similar in the background. Stupid bitch - she must have forgot Dominic was that arrogant jackass he hated so much on her third glass of vodka. Growing up, Asher and his twin sister Aster, along with the then Mrs. Hazel Von Dämon and Mr. Hans Von Dämon lead ordinary, happily ideal lives, with Mr. Von Dämon being the manager of the local bank and Mrs. Von Dämon being a school teacher. The perfect family, until Mr. Von Dämon was killed via drunk driver en route to go back home, with the chocolates, flowers, and romantic getaway plane tickets to save his failing marriage still intact in the back seat. At his funeral, the widow of two met the owner of the bank, thus beginning a long journey of social climbing. Asher and Aster, having to move from place to place, school to school, were raised by their loving maid Constance, who did a better job than the nannies even did. Their mother Hazel, once a loving and bubbly woman, hardly had the time or the will to mother. No hugs, no kisses, no smiles, no love. Eventually, her current husband, who made his distaste for children quite clear yet never complained about the slut he married, suggested they go to some boarding school, and now here they were. "Has your mother called you yet?" Dr. Stellar asked. Jesus, for a man that should have read Asher's notes from his previous psychologists and therapists, he should no better than bring up the slut that unfortunately brought him into this world. "She did," Asher said sharply. "She sounded weirder than the last time. Personally, I think she spends her 90% of her time drinking and deepthroating than actually talking. Struggles of a trophy wife, huh?" Dr. Stellar forced his entire being not to laugh but Asher heard the ghost of a chuckle pass through his lips. "I see. But now on to other matters - you've mentioned earlier that you had a different dream than the usual fantasy of killing your mother and stepfather?" "I did as a matter of fact. Last night, I was in lost in a forest. The light of the moon illuminated the woods around me, and reflected off the midst of the night to add to the creepiness. It had a rather humid feel to it, even though I didn't feel a single drop of water. Suddenly, the green disappeared - the midst turned cold as snow appeared. I began running for no reason, feeling cold and panicked. I stopped beside a rock, and I felt sone thing warm traveling down my arm. It was blood. I thought I was injured, and began calling for help. No one came - I was lost." Dr. Stellar sat quietly in his chair as he processed Asher's dream. "Why do you think you were lost in the woods." "I don't know. Don't you think dream analysis counts as an ability a therapist should have?" "You tell me." "I did." Dr. Stellar looked over Asher one last time before moving on. "I heard in the local news that Dominic Kentbridge was found dead in the wilderness. Wasn't he a schoolmate of yours, and, to be more specific, part of the bullies?" "He was. I don't suppose you want me to start crying about his death? Or that stupid shit he's called me like 'lonely fag' or 'Voldemort wannabe' are suddenly affectionate nicknames?" "How have your friends been handling Dominic's death?" "If you mean crying over how awesome he was, save it. The bitch had whatever was coming to him, and don't expect my friends to be bawling their eyes and ass over it." Jonathan stared at the television screen, eyes glued to the news banner. For a relatively small town, a murder regardless would be sensational and be the town's gossip for weeks to spare. However, let that murder victim be a young, rich royal and suddenly that's the world's gossip for weeks to spare. His friends warned him not to keep up with the news; they've assured him that the prank they tried to pull did not backfire and end with Dominic's death. But Jonathan knew better. The autopsy, done in record time for the morning news hour, revealed that Dominic died via blunt trauma. Having been found near a set of large rocks, it was obvious to the detectives and the examiner that Dominic had fallen from a very large rock and fell head-down on a pile of them, hitting his head on a particularly sharp one that began the brain damage. He died alone, cold, and in pain. The detectives identified the body as Dominic's a few days ago, but what struck Jonathan odd is how rather fast they did it - about twenty four hours since they first followed Dominic to the parking lot. The school hasn't even said anything, to the press or its students. And it wouldn't be long til the police guess Dominic didn't just end up in the middle of nowhere and slip to his death. When they finally come snitching around, they'll stitch together what's been going on and find the one person (and later people) with the most motive and reason to kill him. But when that moment came, would Jonathan sacrifice the truth and justice for his friends? After all, they were responsible. Were they getting away with murder? Or was he protecting them already? Beckham was both mildly pleased and annoyed when he was called to head to the Headmistress Chassidy's office in the middle of Professor List's lecture. To be truthful, that man could put Professor Binns from Harry Potter to sleep. But it's not like anyone could know Beckham was behind the misery his pranks and lies have told. But when he opened the door to the headmistress' office, he was in for a surprise. "Dad?" Beckham asked incredulously. Mr. Hotchner turned to his only son, walked the short distance between them and envoloped him into a bearhug. Even Mr. Hotchner's biggest rivals would be as shocked as Beckham at the sight of the fiercest tech mogul and business shark himself breaking down. But not that Mr. Hotchner had good reason to. When Beckham was only three, when his mother was still sane, the small family decided to take a family vacation to a California beach. When Mrs. Hotchner, who was making sand castles with her infant son on the shore, stepped back to buy ice cream from the sweet shop only twenty feet away, she had the heart attack of her life when Beckham was no longer there holding his pails. With the son of a multibillionaire missing and presumed kidnapped, the news went viral and made national headlines only a few hours later. How ever, by then Beckham was miraculously found, having been taken some crackhead prostitute living in some godforsaken tenant building after an anonymous tip was called in. Needless to say, Beckham was reunited with his parents immediately and the crackhead was sent to prison for kidnapping. After that, the little family should have continued living their paradise of a life, with the nightmare being over. It wasn't. Beckham's kidnapping triggered yet again Mrs. Hotchner's long history of mental illness, which she treated and kept suppressing. She kept insisting the baby given to her wasn't hers - it got to the point where she tried to get rid of him by "doing the right thing" and going back to that tenant building to give him back. Mrs. Hotchner was ultimately sent to a mental institution, where she has been drugged up since. Since then, Mr. Hotchner kept Beckham on a tight leash, and there wasn't anything he could do that Mr. Hotchner couldn't find out until Beckham arrived at Darkridge. "Wh-what are you doing here?" he asked. "Well, Beckham, I just happened to be in Alaska investigating potential oil rig opportunities when I heard from one of my personal sources here about what happened." "How do you know what happened?" Beckham asked innocently. "Wait, wait go back further - personal sources, what the hell is that?" "Beckham, we both know what happened." "Do you have your PIs here? Have you been following me?" "First of all Beckham, being the son of the world's biggest tech tycoon, you've needed bodyguards since birth. Even if you moved to boarding school, I still had some stationed nearby in town along with a spare personal investigator." Beckham breathed deeply as Headmistress Chassidy, who may or may not tried to hear the hushed conversation like the exposed snitch she was, cleared her throat. "Um, Mr Hotchner and ... Mr. Hotchner, may the two of you sit down so we can discuss your son's actions?" "We may," Mr. Hotchner sternly gestured to his son to take a seat in the armchair in front of the headmistress' desk. "Now," she began, flipping through some folders because apparently the old bitch is incapable of owning and using a computer. "Mr. Hotchner, regarding your son's behavior, we wouldn't have called you for the sake of inconvenience unless this is a serious matter, which unfortunately is. "Well, are you going to get to it?" Beckham's father said impatiently. "Yes, sir. You see, recently the administration have been investigating a series of mischievous antics against our students and faculty over the past year. At first, the pranks, if you will, were immature and childish, so much as nothing rather than a detention perhaps would suit as an appropriate punishment. The delinquents were never caught, but the nature of the pranks weren't serious enough to warrant a manhunt. However, recently these pranks have been ... escalating. Once we found a coffee maker in the teachers' lounge spiked heavily with sleeping pills. At the point we've installed hidden security cameras in the blind pots of our regular security cameras, which the troublemakers successfully avoided. But we've caught two figures breaking into the teachers' lounge again. One figure happened to look up precisely at our camera." Headbitchess Chassisy through a polaroid at Mr. Hotchner, who saw Beckham's face clearly in a black hoodie and jeans. Beckham managed to look at the picture and hide his scowl, remembering the cause of the prank. Beckham managed to convince Jonathan how hilarious it would be if the teachers would become tired and even fall asleep during class, and created a plan to stealthily enter the teachers' lounge after stealing a tube of sleeping pills from known insomniac Emilio DiSol. It was relatively easy since he remembered some dumbass teacher broke their key in the lock, thus the door could never actually be locked and remain open. He later brought Jonathan again to the lounge to install a listening device to hear to gossip and the crap the professors complained about. "Beckham, would you like to explain to me and your headmistress why you were caught breaking into the lounge? In fact, are you responsible for the trouble being caused in this school?" he asked quietly, but the anger in his voice sent chills down his son's voice. Beckham knew he was screwed, but one thing his father should know is that he didn't raise any fool. "Yes, father, I did," he said solemnly. Mr. Hotchner looked at Beckham, who had his head down, and let out a disappointed sigh. "Headmistress, I apologize on my behalf of my son-" "I did all of those terrible things because Dominic Kentbridge forced me to do them," blurted out Beckham. Both adults looked at the young man in shock, momentarily speechless. It was the headbitchess who finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "Mr. Hotchner - err, Beckham, that is a strong accusation to make in light of what happened to Mr. Kentbridge. The school is planning a memorial to finally start the mourning but-" "Headbi-Headmistress, a year ago, Dominic found me in the library kissing Ms. Brennan. But it wasn't what happened, I asked her for help on my homework and she, she kissed me! Afterwards, she started blackmailing me into having a sexual relationship, threatening me with my grades. I know I wasn't the only one, though I can't confirm that. Anyway, I tried convincing Dominic that he didn't see what he saw but he starting blackmailing me into helping me prank people he hated-" Beckham was interrupted (rudely, if he can add) by the old woman. "Slow down, Mr. Hotchner!" Chassidy took several deep breathes and held a hand to her heart, as if Beckham's words could cause a heart attack. He felt slight pity for the woman - so old and frail that even a speech without any curses or insults could leave her looking constipated (hell she could be right now). "Mr. Hotchner, those are some extremely serious claims, ones you couldn't truly make without any foundation of evidence. Ms. Brennan and Mr. Kentbridge are - were? - ''are a model teacher and student with no previous complains or-" "I'm sorry but are you calling my son a liar?" demanded Beckham's father. Mr. Hotchner slowly rose from his chair, buttoning his jacket as he gave Chassidy what Beckham affectionately called the "shark" look. Head up, eyes staring coldly down to his victim, Mr. Hotchner always came out as the biggest predator and winner in his business meetings. "No-no sir, I'm just saying that-" began Chassidy nervously, but was silenced when Mr Hotchner raised his index finger in the air. Finally, this reject of a woman was about to be taught a lesson of what it meant to cross a Hotchner. "If I'm being clear, what I'm hearing is that not only has my son has been victimized repeatedly by a member of your administration, but was also exploited by a supposedly perfect model of a student?" Mr. Hotchner asked in a deadly calm tone. "Mr. Hotchner, please if you would-" she began to rise out of her chair, hands in front of her. "Do what exactly? Try to deny any wrongdoing from your faculty, smooth over any troubles and brush them underneath the rug? Pay me to be quiet?" He barked. "Now, sit down," he ordered. Chassidy, arms down, sat back down like a child caught red-handed. "Beckham," he said softly. "Go outside, and if could, start packing your things. You're leaving." "Wait, Dad, please be reasonable!" "Beckham, pack your things," he responded in a final tone. Conversation's over. Defeated, despite coming out unscathed, Beckham headed to the door and have one final glance at the headbitchess. She won't be coming out alive once his father finishes his wrath. And as expected, Nicholas, Asher, and Jonathan had gathered outside her office when they heard Beckham was called in the intercom. "What happened?" said Jonathan. "What the hell did she want?" demanded Asher. "Meet me in the Gaming HQ right now, I need to go to my locker," Beckham said absently. "Why?" inquired Nicholas. "Because, idiot, I need some stuff. Like I said, I'll meet you in the Gaming HQ." Beckham stalked his way through the crowd of his loser peers and tried to avoid getting his Armoni suit in contact with the disgusting handkerchiefs and tissues those crying had. He swirled the corner where his locker stood isolated from the rest. Turning his lock to the right combination, he opened the door and a small piece of paper came out. Picking it up, Beckham read the message written neatly inside. Payback is a sweet bitch, isn't it, King B? ''- Prince D'' Main: *Sterling Beauman as Beckham Hotchner *Mitchell Hope as Jonathan Novak *Jake Austin Walker as Asher Von Dämon *Dylan O'Brien as Nicholas McKeller *Taylor Hill as Serena Delacourt (credited *Madeleine Petsch as Aster Von Dämon (credited) Guest: *Robert John Burke as Mr. Hotchner *Imelda Staunton as Headmistress Chassidy. Category:Fearless Diva Productions Category:TDG Season 1 Category:TDG TV Series Category:Original Content